“About what?”
“NGO business.”
“I thought it was about some sort of rip-roaring press conference you described to my officer.”
“It involves both.”
“I find it hard to believe you’ll be dragging your NGO’s name into the middle of that sort of ‘press conference.’” He used finger quotes for emphasis.
“As opposed to the Greek ‘justice system’ dragging its name through the mud on the way to lynching our employee for a murder he didn’t commit?” She, too, used finger quotes. “Frankly, Commander, I think it’s time to drag a hell of a lot of other names into this.”
“Is that wise?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“That could be dangerous.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t look at me that way. You know precisely what I’m saying. You’re as aware of the scum out there involved in this refugee-trafficking trade as am I. They killed Volandes and won’t hesitate to do the same to anyone else they think threatens them.”
“Are you telling me you know Ali didn’t do it?”
“Are you taping this?”
“No. Are you?”
He gestured no. “The thing is…” he paused. “Your man’s far safer in here than on the outside.”
“What are you saying?”
The commander leaned toward her across his desk. “Assuming Ali didn’t do it, you must admit he’s been set up through a very well thought-out plan. The perfect ending for such a plan would be if the primary suspect turns up dead, in a manner establishing him as Volandes’ killer. That gives everyone involved a simple solution to a messy situation. Case closed, end of story.” He slapped his hands together.
“Are you serious?”
“I wish I weren’t, but it’s happened before.”
“How close are you to finding the real killer?”
He shrugged. “The investigation is being run out of Athens.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“Sounds like more political cover-up.”
He gestured no. “The guy in charge isn’t like that.”
“Says who?”
“Everybody.”
“Oh, good old everybody. That fellow seems to turn up whenever there’s a call for a show of hands from those who believe in saving the lives of their fellow man, but conveniently disappears whenever asked to do something like feed, clothe, or allow a refugee to move into everybody’s country.”
“This isn’t a political debate. I’m talking about a cop trying to do his job to help your friend.”
“No, what you’re telling me is to wait around doing nothing until something else happens. What’s that going to be, a murder prosecution or funeral for Ali?”
“I think you ought to give our man in Athens time.”
“For what? For you or him to get lucky and find the guy who swung the sword? Big deal if you have your killer, you’re still no closer to those behind this ‘very well-thought-out plan.’” More finger quotes. “Those bastards will still be out there, hiring others to murder the next caring soul who threatens their business.”
“Which could be you.”
“I’m willing to take that risk to stop them.”
Knock knock.
“Who’s there?” said the commander
“It’s me,” said an attractive young woman who wore no police uniform. “I need to speak with you. It’s…oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone in your office.”
“That’s all right, we’ll be done soon, won’t we, Ms. McLaughlin?”
“In a few minutes.”
“Okay, but it’s important, Dad. It has to do with that report because––”
“Excuse me, Ms. McLaughlin. I’ve been rude. Permit me to introduce you to my daughter. Aleka, this is Dana McLaughlin, she’s the head of SafePassage, the NGO employing the young man accused of killing Mihalis Volandes.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Dana.
“You, too,” said Aleka. “I’ll wait outside until you’re finished.” She closed the door.
Dana stared at the closed door. “She looks familiar.”
“Not surprised, it’s a small island.”
Dana swung around to face the commander. “Not all that small. So, where were we?”
“You were telling me how you were willing to die to get to the bottom of this.”
“Not quite, but you get my point.”
“I trust you’ll reconsider pressing for Ali’s release.”
Dana nodded. “I promise you I’ll think about it. But I do want to see him.”
“Okay. Just do me a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t announce in your press conference that I gave you permission to see him.”
“Fine,” said Dana. “If it comes up, I’ll blame it on the cop at the front desk.”
“Please don’t do that either; my sister would never forgive me.”
“He’s your nephew?”
The commander shrugged. “It’s Greece.”
“I get it, family matters.”
“Which, if we’re done here, reminds me that I’d better see what my daughter wants.”
Dana got up to leave.
“Do yourself a favor, Ms. McLaughlin. If you trust me, please let me know before you say anything that might make you a target, and perhaps, together, we can figure out a way to move you out of the line of fire.”
“That’s very decent of you.”
“I’d tell the same thing to my daughter if she were considering taking the sorts of risks you are.” He looked at the door. “Just let me know. Okay?”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks. Bye.”
Dana opened the door and left. Aleka rushed past her, through the open door, headed straight for the chair by her father’s desk.
l l l l l
“What was she doing here?”
“Close the door.”
Aleka did, and sat in the chair. “So, why was she here?”
“Proving to me that you’re not the only strong-willed woman on this island.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The commander smiled. “Precisely what it sounded like.” He sighed. “So what happened at work today?”
“My boss and his secretary spent the entire morning tearing the office apart, looking for his notes.”
“What did they say to you?”
“Nothing until after they’d finished looking. He asked if I’d seen the notes and I said no. He asked if I’d been in the office over the weekend and I said no.”
“That was it?”
“Until he asked me to sign a duplicate copy of the notes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I’d like to read them.”
“And?”
“He went ballistic. Screamed at me, called me disloyal, said that I risked putting his entire office at risk over my petulant attitude.”
“He actually said that?”
“Called me petulant twice, and finished by yelling that if I didn’t sign them at once, he’d fire me on the spot.”
“So, you’re here looking for a job?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I signed the notes.”
“You what? Are you crazy?” He slammed his palms on his desk. “We went through all this before. You were going to refuse. I can’t believe that after all the risks you took, you commit career suicide just because an asshole’s ranting at you. This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“Well, I didn’t think about it quite that way. I figured from how worked up he was, if I didn’t si
gn, he’d likely panic, and who knew what he might do, or who else might get hurt.”
“So, instead you decided to guarantee you’ll get hurt.”
“Not really.”
He slapped the desktop again. “You signed the damn notes.”
“Not really.”
“Have you lost your mind? You just told me you signed the notes.”
She smiled. “Yes, I did, but what I scribbled as my signature were the words, ‘I disagree.’”
The commander stared at his daughter. “And he never bothered to read your signature?”
“How often do you check a signature you saw signed in front of you?”
He smiled. “As of this moment, always.”
l l l l l
The cell stood barely wide enough for the man to stand beside a pair of metal bunk beds anchored lengthwise to the wall. A metal toilet and tiny sink mounted against the opposite wall took up much of the rest of the open space. Dana stood outside the flat vertical bars lining the front of the cell. The other three sides of the cell were made of dirty beige concrete, and none had a window. Light came in through translucent panels spaced along the vertical edge of the building’s sawtooth-style roof and two barred windows at the end of a long hallway.
“How are you holding up, my friend?” she asked.
“They’re feeding me, I have no cellmate, and I’m not being tortured, so life is good.” Ali Sera smiled.
“How can you keep smiling?”
He shrugged. “I’ve lived through worse. Others on this island are living in far worse conditions than I. God knows I am innocent, and with God’s help I shall be spared.”
“But look at this place.” She waved her hands all around her.
“My attorney said that by law I should be transferred to a different place. A place for those charged with crimes like mine.”
“When will that be?”
“He said if the police don’t do it by tomorrow, he will ask the court to order it.”
Dana bit at her lip. “Do you want to go?”
He shrugged. “Do I have a choice?”
“My question is, do you want to leave?”
“I see no reason to move. I am comfortable here. I’m alone, and it’s quiet.”
The commander’s words about Ali’s death solving a lot of problems for a lot of people rang in her ears. A prison filled with serious criminals and cooperative authorities would be a perfect place for executing such arrangements. Literally.
“Do me a favor. Tell your lawyer not to ask the court to order your move.”
“Why?”
She reached through the bars and patted his arm. “I want to keep you close by. We all do.”
l l l l l
Ali sat staring out through the bars after Dana had left. He knew she meant well, she always had. She’d thrown her heart and soul into Volandes’ plan, thinking that together they could forever change the dynamics of addressing refugees by infusing the process with dignity and common sense.
Volandes’ plan stood based on the simple principle that no matter what the EU might wish, refugee migration would never end. They’d continue coming, risking death if necessary. Neither a callous disregard of their plight, nor free and open borders were viable solutions. A true solution required a workable platform allowing for a speedy determination of who may enter and who may not, operating in a civilized, humane, and organized environment.
The plan envisioned ferryboat-size ships, equipped with medical, social, and immigration services working side by side, processing refugees picked up on shores now ruled by traffickers. Their claims would be addressed on board with dignity and respect, and those granted entry, delivered to welcome centers and fully processed for the next step in their journey. Those denied entry would be set ashore in safe harbors outside the EU. All for a cost far less than what is now expended on an existing jumble of governmental policies and programs in shambles.
Ali kept staring. Even if Mihalis had lived, Ali wasn’t sure his plan would have come to pass, much less actually have changed anything in a meaningful way. But to be fair, Ali had a different perspective than Dana or Mihalis, what with so much of his life spent looking up from the bottom of the refugee barrel.
Chapter Ten
Andreas sat with his eyes fixed on the computer screen, searching for a program that linked faces to names. If Facebook could do it, there must be others. There had to be. All he needed was the right database. Interpol had come up empty. Same with MI-6, CIA, Mossad. He’d not yet heard back from Greece’s own intelligence services but wasn’t holding his breath.
How the hell could there be no record of this guy anywhere?
He doubted he’d get any luckier on his own, but at least trying helped assuage his frustration.
Yianni poked his head in the doorway. “I heard from the Mytilini police commander. No luck on turning up whatever the killer used to spatter Ali with Volandes’ blood. And no better word on the sword.”
“Any other good news?”
“Only that I’m heading home if you don’t need me.”
“I’m pissed.”
“At me?”
“The world.” Andreas pointed at his screen. “How could there be no record in some database somewhere of this guy? He’s a professional assassin.”
Yianni nodded. “What are we dealing with? That Jackal guy from Venezuela?”
“He had KGB protection. People knew him.”
“Maybe this guy’s protected too?”
Andreas nodded toward the screen. “Yeah, but that was way before all this technology and mobile phone cameras existed. It’s hard to imagine that no one knows him or ever took a picture of him that hasn’t made it into some data file somewhere.”
Yianni dropped onto the couch in front of the windows. “Maybe he goes in for plastic surgery.”
Andreas shrugged. “Maybe. But he certainly doesn’t show any concern over hiding his face. He walked straight at that camera, fully knowing what he was doing. It’s as if he’s daring us to identify him.”
“Perhaps we’re going at this the wrong way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andreas let go of his computer mouse and picked up a pencil.
“If none of the big boy agencies can identify our guy from his photo, either he’s protected or not in their databases. If the former, we’ll never hear about it. If the latter, he knows how to defeat the software and stay off the radar.”
“How could he defeat the software? If he ever had a passport, driver’s license, school ID, you name it, his photo would be in the system.”
Yianni gestured no. “Not necessarily. Agencies know how to scrub their agents from those files. Like I said, it’s how they protect their own.”
“You’re saying he’s government?”
“No, I’m saying technology exists to keep him from turning up in searches. And since that exists, who’s to say that, with the right sort of connections…” Yianni rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, “or cash, this guy couldn’t make himself unofficially officially anonymous.”
“That’s a hell of a conspiracy theory, even for a Greek.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“So, Detective Kouros, how do you propose we identify this guy if we can’t find anything out about him officially?”
“To catch a thief….”
“It takes a thief?”
“Yep. If he’s as efficient and deadly professional an assassin as we think, whether or not we’ve ever heard of him, he’s probably known to his peers.”
“Assuming you’re right, how’s that help us?” said Andreas. “I don’t happen to know any international assassins willing to chit-chat with police about their colleagues.”
“Yes, you do. At least one who might be willing.”
“Who?”
“Oh, that’s right, you never met him.” Yianni paused. “But I did.”
“You’re beginning to be as much of a dramatic pain in the ass as Tassos. Get to your punch line already.”
“I even know where he lives.”
“Yianni, I swear––”
“Delphi.”
Andreas paused. “Kharon?”
“Yep. If anyone might know him, it’d be Kharon.”
“But why in the world do you think he’d talk to us?”
“He has a different life now. He’s in the olive oil business. He’s gone legit.”
“And you think you’re going to squeeze him into cooperating by threatening his new life?”
Yianni put up both hands. “Whoa. I’m not suicidal.”
“But he’s one hundred percent homicidal.” Andreas shook his head. “Perhaps you forgot everything we did to stay off that maniac’s radar. We didn’t want him even suspecting we were on to him. Now you want us to drop in on his new life, tell him we know all about his past life––assuming it actually is past––ask that he please identify a fellow dirtbag killer, and hope he won’t take that as some sort of threat. Are you crazy?”
“Probably. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be a cop.” Yianni stretched. “Do you have any other ideas on how to get a lead on our unidentifiable bad guy?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” said a clench-jawed Andreas.
“Great, you work on it your way, and I’ll work on it mine.”
Andreas pointed his pencil directly between Yianni’s eyes. “Don’t be a hero. He’s not someone to mess with.”
“No need to remind me of that. Trust me, I know I’d likely be dead if he’d not told me to walk out of that taverna in Thessaloniki.”
“Not likely. Absolutely. And he didn’t let you live because he liked you; he did it because not killing you served his plans.”
“I still think it’s worth the risk. We’ve hit a dead end and Kharon’s our best, if not only, shot at identifying our killer.”
Andreas shook his head. “I still don’t like your idea.”
An Aegean April Page 12